


Turmoil

by not_a_savant



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Pre-Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Sort Of, implied infidelity, slight D/s, unbetad we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 10:11:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20190589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/not_a_savant/pseuds/not_a_savant
Summary: Chris Argent is a good man, but sometimes he doesn't believe it.





	Turmoil

**Author's Note:**

> Characters aren't mine.

Chris Argent is a good man. 

He kills the hunts down evil creatures, puts down the vicious supernatural, but the Code is etched into his very being, he protects people from harm. His cause is true, and he is proud of never having violated his Code. He loves his wife, adores his daughter and never forgets to be there when they need him. His business is ethical and sustainable, he makes time to volunteer at charities and runs a scholarship for students with difficult backgrounds. He loves his Clan but knows they don’t make the best decision, so he does everything he can to keep them distracted by the supernatural who really need to be culled, works into the night to make sure they always hunt down only the deserving. 

He’s made decisions he’s not proud of, ones that haunt him every time he closes his eyes, but Chris Argent is a good man.  
He’s never believed it less than in this moment. 

“Enjoying yourself, Christopher?” Cruel eyes look down at him and Peter Hale pointedly thrusts his hips, drawing a strangled moan out of Chris.

“Fuck you, dog.” Peter laughs merrily, unafraid of the wolfbane laced silver bullets loaded into a gun pressed to his head. He leans forward, pistoning into the warm heat enveloping him, tongue reaching out to lave at the Hunter’s throat. Teasing the skin with his teeth and smirking as Chris tightens around him letting out a helpless moan, even as the gun digs into his temple. 

“And what are you then?” Peter whispers into the hunter’s ear, forcing his dick deeper into the older man’s body with each word, “being” thrust, “fucked” thrust, “by” thrust, “a” thrust, “_dog_?” He laughs low and deep at the warring pleasure and turmoil on the man’s face. 

His hands roam all over the Hunter’s strong chest, fingers pinching swollen nipples mercilessly, drawing pleasure until it veers into pain, until Chris is gasping and shuddering at the feeling. “Does the gun make you feel strong, Christopher? Make you think you’re in control?” Peter laughs at the anguished groan as a hand reaches down to massage Chris’ balls, rubbing his perineum harshly before his thumb slides in with his cock, still fucking into him effortlessly with all that werewolf strength and control. Chris makes an inhuman sound.

“Jus-“ His words are cut off as he moans at a particularly slow thrust that drags across his prostrate so sweetly, sweat sliding down his back and arms as he thinks about how long he’s been fucked like this, stopped right at the edge of climax, and then brought up again. The muscles in his arm holding the gun scream in protest. He grits his teeth, “Just going to put you down the moment you step out of line, mongrel.” 

Peter hums happily, ignoring the threat, “But we both know,” Peter smiles bright and malicious, flashing perfect white teeth as his eyes flash icy blue, the colour of a killer, “you’re just a _bitch_ in heat.” Chris moans, the gun shaking in his trembling hand as he rakes his other hand down the wolf’s back, fingernails gouging skin to draw blood even though it heals immediately. Peter hisses in satisfaction, grip tightening around Chris’s dick, staving off the orgasm yet again. 

Chris whimpers desperately, “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” Glaring at the wolf through blurred eyes. Peter leans in until their noses are almost touching, eyes flashing with satisfaction, so close that their breathing into each other’s mouths, gasps and pants leaving warm puffs of air on their lips. 

“You’re so perfect like this, so beautiful, so fucking desperate.” Peter’s voice cracks and he leans forward, teeth digging into Chris’ bottom lip and drawing blood, only retreating once the salty taste hits his tongue. Looking up at him right now, red slicking his lips, tongue darting out to taste, Chris thinks he looks exactly like the monster from the stories that his father used to tell him about. He tries not to think about what that would make him. 

“You’d do anything for this right? Getting fucked by the animal that you hunt. Spreading your legs for some guy 7 years younger.” Peter’s fingers turn into claws, scratching a line down his side, leaving swollen, raised welts with hints of red. 

Chris yelps, blood rushing straight to his dick, as it strains, purple and untouched, wet with come dribbling out. “So perfect for me darling.” Peter effortlessly wraps his arms around Chris’ thighs, heaving him up before slamming him against the bedframe, slowing down until each thrust is excruciatingly slow and deep, gravity feeding Peter’s dick so far into Chris’ body that he’s seeing stars. His walls clench down on Peter’s dick, trying to swallow him, keep him inside even as they flutter uselessly to accommodate the girth. God, he feels so full. 

“Tell you what,” Peter bites his ear, tongue soothing the sting before he whispers with faux wide eyes and a mocking smile, “if you beg for me, I’ll finally let you come.” Chris feels lightheaded and weak. When he tries to bear down on Peter’s dick, the werewolf’s arms keep him exactly where he is, and he isn’t, he really isn’t planning on. But the words come unbidden, tumbling out of his mouth.

He’s been driven to desperation. To madness. Mindlessly fucked for hours until his mind is spinning, and his dick is throbbing so badly, he can’t even tell the pain and pleasure apart anymore. “Please, please, let me come, please Peter.” 

“_Oh_.” And Peter’s sigh is almost reverent, “you’re so perfect, darling.” The gun clatters down on to the floor as Peter slams Chris back onto the bed, hands opening his knees wide and pushing them to the sides of his head, hips slapping against Chris’ flesh with each agitated thrust. “You can come now, Christopher.”

“_Come_.” 

Peter’s eyes flash icy blue and his fangs drop out as he fucks Chris right through his orgasm until he comes with a howl, staring right at Chris’ face the entire time. 

Chris is silent when Peter slides out and gets up. His legs are limp and his muscles ache so bad. He knows he’s going to be sore all throughout tomorrow’s morning drills. The come slowly drips out of his ass and he feels full and slow and so, _so_ content. In his haze, he thinks that Peter cleans him up, he only comes to with the sensation of cold metal pressing into his palm. 

Peter is dressed and gorgeous as usual, not a hair out of place, the injuries that Chris left on him healed and disappeared already. Not a trace of their encounter remaining. 

But his hand is warm wrapped around Chris and the gun. Peter very slowly, deliberately brings Chris’ hand with the gun up and presses the barrel to his temple, then holding his gaze he leans forward and closes the space between them. 

Chris’ breath hitches as their lips meet, in a proper kiss this time, nothing like the facsimile before. Chris smells and tastes and feels and is overwhelmed by everything. His mouth moves in tandem to Peter, lips parting to let a questing tongue in, he’s explored and licked and bitten and conquered. It’s soft and perfect and nothing like he expected from Peter. 

Chris Argent was a good man. But he met Peter Hale, eighteen, brilliant mind, eyes of a killer, a smile sharper than his fangs and now he doesn’t know anything anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are appreciated!


End file.
